I'm not looking for self-control
by oddlyfamiliar
Summary: For the tumblr prompt: Ginny in Mike's pool wearing just a threadbare 36 Padres t-shirt (Mike/Ginny Bawson)


Sam: "You-you greatly overestimate my self-control."

Grace: "I'm not looking for self-control."

\- **Maggie Stiefvater** , Shiver

As always, all of my fics are on AO3 (under the same username), but I only put the ones that are rated Mature or lower on here. That means there's plenty of sequels to some of my fics over on AO3 (that are rated Explicit).

To fill the prompt: _Ginny in Mike's pool wearing just a threadbare 36 Padres t-shirt_

* * *

Mike glances up from his iPad when he feels something nudge his thigh.

"I'm bored, Lawson," Ginny sighs, her phone discarded onto the cushion next to her, and her toes digging into his leg to get his attention.

"And?"

"And you should entertain me; I'm your guest."

Mike snorts out a laugh. "Guest implies invite; you walked in and stole my food."

"Please," she scoffs, "if I hadn't barged in, then you wouldn't have seen another human in weeks. I'm doing you a favor."

"Well that's a complete lie," Mike smirks at her, finally putting his iPad down on the small table to give her his full attention, "I see my housekeeper twice a week."

Ginny rolls her eyes at him, and Mike tries not to let his gaze drift down to the way the simple, dark purple tank top she's wearing clings to her curves, or the way her skinny jeans are like a second skin and show off her thighs to perfection. Because they're still pretending, mostly, like they don't wanna jump each others' bones.

And he refuses to be the first one to give in and admit how desperate he is.

He does have _some_ pride, after all.

"C'mon, Evy said you were responsible for making sure I'm okay while they're away," she digs her bare toes into his thigh again, and Mike resists the urge to grab hold of her feet, knowing that he'd end up running his hands all over her.

"I'm pretty sure you're a grown woman, Baker. You'll survive."

She makes a noise of annoyance, some weird mix of a grunt and a snort that he really shouldn't find adorable, then looks over the back of the sofa to the pool behind them.

"I suppose I could always go for a swim," she murmurs, obviously thinking outloud. "My PT said it'd be good for my arm."

"Sure, you're welcome to use me for my pool," Mike teases her, but he's actually glad that she's talking to him about her rehab. For a good few weeks after her injury, she'd retreated into herself and ignored pretty much everyone, including Blip and Evy, but she's making a lot of progress with her strength and it seems to have given her the drive to stop shutting people out.

If he's honest with himself, Mike's glad that she's taken to crashing at his house for hours at a time. He's been rattling around the place since he put the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with Rachel, and things still aren't quite right with the guys, so he appreciates the company.

Especially when it's her.

He knows that what they're doing is dangerous. Ever since she told that tech guy to take a hike, every time Mike's alone with her, the heat between them gets more and more intense. They're starting to get closer to that invisible line they've drawn, but Mike's man enough to admit that he just doesn't care. He _should_ , but whenever Ginny looks at him with desire in her eyes, or when he catches her staring at his lips or hands or chest, it gets harder and harder to remember why they're not supposed to do this.

"I don't suppose you've got anything I can wear to swim in, have you?" Ginny asks, her eyes still looking hopefully at the pool.

"Oh sure, let me just get you my collection of bikinis," he says archly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Her eyes sweep over him, before she raises an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm not judging whatever you do in your own time," she smirks, before glancing back at the pool. "Get me a t-shirt or something then instead," she says while wiggling her toes into his thigh again.

"Go get yourself a t-shirt," he frowns, mostly because he doesn't wanna get up, but at least eighty percent because he's hoping that she'll decide to skinny dip.

Make that ninety percent.

"Lawson," she whines, her toes running up and down the side of his thigh, and it's crazy how he can feel the warmth of her touch through his sweats. "Don't you want my arm to get better?"

He huffs and rolls his eyes, knowing he's being played with, but that's what drives him to make a stupid decision. Mike sits forward a little and pulls his t-shirt off, an old, practically threadbare _Padres_ tee, with his name and number on the back. It's gotta be at least ten years old, worn in and comfortable, and probably just about long enough to cover her ass.

"There you go, your highness," he mocks as he throws it at her, trying not to get sidetracked by the way her eyes immediately drop down to his bare chest.

"Seriously?" Ginny's tone says that she's annoyed, but the way she's biting at her lip tells a different story.

"What?" he asks, fake innocence dripping from his voice, "you asked for a t-shirt."

The way her gaze narrows slightly, like she's taken his teasing as a challenge, _should_ make him nervous. Instead, it just makes his cock pulse in his sweats. He shouldn't get so turned on by her looking defiant, but he's well aware that he's screwed when it comes to having 'normal' reactions to Ginny.

"Okay," she says, way too easily.

"You can ch-" he begins, pointing out the nearby pool house with several private changing areas, but he doesn't get any further before he chokes on his tongue, because Ginny just stands up, turns her back on him, and pulls her tank top straight over her head.

Mike shifts awkwardly on the sofa, moving to cover the way his cock is tenting his sweats, while he stares at the smooth lines of her back. She drops the tank top onto the sofa and reaches to pull her sports bra off as well, and the arch of her back highlights the dimples at the base of her spine. All he wants to do is see if his fingers fit there; they look like they'd fit perfectly, his hands wrapped around her hips while she's straddling his thighs… his fingertips sliding over those tantalizing dips.

Maybe he could drag his tongue over them, instead. She'd be pinned beneath him, squirming as he ran his lips and teeth over every inch of her bare skin, trailing down and down until he reaches those dimples-

Suddenly, they disappear from sight, the soft grey cotton of his t-shirt blocking his view as she tugs it down around her waist. He was right; it _does_ barely cover her ass.

And then her hands trail around to the front of her jeans before she shimmies her hips, and bends over slightly to push the skinny jeans down her long, toned legs.

She's wearing plain black boyshorts.

He's staring at Ginny Baker's panties while she's bending over in front of him. Mike can barely breathe, he's so turned on. His hand automatically grabs at the base of his cock through his sweatpants and squeezes lightly, trying to get some control over himself.

It doesn't work.

Instead, he's just groping himself in front of his rookie. He quickly lets go just as she turns around, his t-shirt falling over her hips to barely cover her panties, but the slow once-over she gives him as she kicks her jeans over to one side tells him that she's noticed the bulge of his erection.

"You wanna join me?" she asks, her head tilting over to indicate the pool, but Mike honestly doesn't think he can move from his seat right now.

"I'm good, but you have fun, rook."

She takes another slow glance down to his lap, before she smirks. "You too, captain."

Mike thanks his lucky stars that she immediately turns around and heads for the pool, so she doesn't actually see the way his jaw drops, his face heats up, and his hips twitch up into the air. He automatically follows her with his eyes, unable to look away from the gentle sway of her hips as she walks down the staggered steps into the water, his t-shirt clinging to her body as she gets deeper and deeper.

When she ducks down far enough to cover her shoulders and then stands up again, Mike's heart nearly fails. Her nipples are hard and easily viewable through the soaking, threadbare material. In fact, it's made practically transparent by the water, and he can see the outline of her breasts as clearly as if she wasn't wearing anything at all.

When his heart kicks back in, it's beating way too fast. He would probably be able to hear it rattling against his chest if he wasn't making a low moaning sound from deep in his throat.

"Did you say something?" she calls over to him, lifting an arm to flick her hair out of her eyes. He's mesmerized by the curve of her breast, the hefty swell that looks as though he'd be able to cup his palm around her and it'd be a perfect match.

"Uh, n- yeah, actually, I just said that I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" he blurts out. There's no way in hell that he's gonna be able to watch her like this, nevermind when she eventually gets _out_ of the pool, without embarrassing himself. And even if they are constantly pushing the boundaries of what's appropriate between them, he's absolutely certain that coming in his pants in front of her is a step too far.

She frowns a little before shrugging. "Sure, okay."

Mike waits until she starts swimming back and forth, making sure to take care with her arm, before he quickly gets up from the sofa and makes his way inside the house. His erection, hanging thick and heavy between his legs, doesn't make it easy to move anywhere in a hurry, but he manages to get into the bathroom without incident.

When he pushes his sweats and boxer briefs down until they drop to the floor, wraps his hand around his dripping cock, and starts furiously tugging at himself, he very carefully tries not to think about Ginny. About the way he wants to nuzzle at the soft curve of her breast, how he wants to drag his beard along the sensitive skin there, and suck her nipple into his mouth.

He refuses to think about the strong, smooth lines of her back. The dimples on either side of her spine. The way she'd look, on her hands and knees in front of him, her cunt clinging to his cock as he slowly draws his hips back before slamming into her, hard and fast.

And when he jams the heel of his hand into his mouth to muffle the loud moan that breaks free as he comes, Mike definitely doesn't think about dropping soft, sweet kisses all over her face as they fall asleep next to each other.

He looks down at the mess all over his stomach and hand and _does_ think about how utterly screwed he is.

"Fuck."


End file.
